Dreams
by goingdownwithmyships
Summary: Blaine and Kurt are the best of friends - but what happens when Blaine starts having sex dreams about Kurt?  Let me know if you think I should continue!


**Hello my lovelies! My first ever Klaine fanfic – okay, I'll admit it, my first ever fanfic. Actually, the first thing I've ever written and allowed anyone to see. So…don't judge me too harshly! Please read and review, tell me if you think I should continue? Love to you all, xoxo!**

**Just so you know – at this point, this is pre-Kliss. Blaine has moved to McKinley High because he regrets not standing up to the bullies in his old school. Blaine and Kurt are still **_**just friends**_**.**

_We're sitting at the tables outside Starbucks, sipping on our vanilla lattes. Kurt smiles at me, tentatively reaching for my hand. He leans across the table and caresses my cheek with his free hand. He leans across the table and our lips meet. The kiss is slow and tender and first. I twist my fingers in Kurt's perfectly coiffed hair the kiss grows urgent. We are wrapped around each other, our discarded lattes forgotten._

Blaine woke with a start, not knowing where he was or how he got there. Slowly, he looked around his cream-coloured room and his disorientation lifted. He vividly remembered imagining Kurt's tongue dipping into his mouth and sighed in exasperation. Lately he'd been dreaming all kinds of things about Kurt, which made no sense because he didn't even _like_him like that. He reached for the alarm clock perched on his bedside table and huddled back underneath the covers when he saw he had sixteen more minutes till his alarm started to shriek. As he settled back into his pillow, he contemplated his dream with curiosity. Of course he didn't like Kurt _in that way_, but he was still a teenage boy. Now that the idea had been put into his head, he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to stroke his face, to taste his skin. As he pondered over how soft Kurt's skin was and whether his milky hands were any indication of how the _rest_ of his body felt, he unconsciously slipped his hand under the deep blue duvet and lightly caressed his erection. He'd been waking up hard ever since his Kurt-dreams began, and more often than not he began the day by _taking care_ of his little problem. Only it wasn't a little problem anymore, because he found himself daydreaming throughout the day about Kurt – Kurt picking him up in the morning before school, Kurt belting his heart out in the McKinley High auditorium, Kurt smiling timidly at Blaine, Kurt being overcome with a sudden bout of lust and emotion, attacking Blaine's face with his mouth, Kurt rigorously implementing his skin-care regimen before bed-time, Kurt fixing his hair, Kurt taking a shower, Kurt standing _naked_ and _wet_ in front of a steam-covered mirror ...

Blaine moaned. His gentle strokes had evolved into quick, rough jerks. It occurred to him that something about jerking off to the image of his naked best friend about whom he was certain he had no feelings wasn't quite right, but he pushed the thought to the back of his mind and concentrated instead on how it would feel if, rather than his own hands tugging at his cock, Kurt's mouth enveloped it. He could feel himself coming undone as he thought of Kurt's tongue flicking over the tip of his leaking dick, his breath becoming more and more shallow and -

_Right, right, turn off the lights  
>We gonna lose our minds tonight<br>What's the dealio?_

- fuck. Blaine's eyes flew open and he looked at his alarm in disgust. As he propped himself up in his bed, with one hand still clutching his now half-hard cock, he reluctantly extracted one arm from the mass of blankets and hit the snooze button with his elbow. Kurt would be here in forty-five minutes to pick him up in time for their daily Starbucks rendezvous, which didn't give Blaine very much time to shower and excavate the depths of his closet to look for some clean underwear – for his Kurt-dreams were having a devastating effect on his laundry – and pick an outfit and find his History essay which was due first thing in the morning. With one last, wistful squeeze to his somewhat stiff cock, he reluctantly rolled out of bed, already rehashing the way it felt in his dream to have Kurt pressed up against him.


End file.
